It Has To Be You
by postscriptress
Summary: The cutest thing about Kashima right now, Hori thinks, is that she actually thinks she's being suave and clever about this. (She isn't.)


(It has come to my attention that the coding on this was really messed up - I'm sorry, guys, I haven't been on for ages! - so I re-uploaded this, hopefully you guys can read it better now?)

**Original AO3 Link: /works/2271318**

* * *

The cutest thing about Kashima right now, Hori thinks, is that she actually thinks she's being suave and clever about this. (She_isn't_.)

So when she lingers around him this time, way too close than she usually is in her normal pleas for attention, he lets her be. Let it be known that he is not always stingy and uptight towards his underclassmen.

In fact, it _is_ widely well-known that Hori is anything _but_ stingy so far as Kashima is concerned, albeit all the reprimands and whiteboard-throwing that'd prove otherwise. But putting that aside, for now.

Putting that aside in favor of noticing what he's actually _supposed_ to be focusing on this very moment, something which is not _someone_ looking over his shoulder with their warm breath ghosting over the shell of his ear.

"What's that, _senpai_? New script?"

"Yeah." Nozaki had handed it over the other night, just as Hori had been in the middle of measuring out a pair of classroom windows for next month's chapter.

It's not a jaw-breakingly original script – just a _Beauty and the Beast_ kind of thing, with the special peculiarity of having the beast be a bull-headed one, at Hori's earlier insistence. But Hori knows, more than anything else, that if anyone can do something off _Rumplestiltskin_ and turn the plainest of plotlines into spun gold, it would be no one else but Kashima herself.

"You'll be the prince, of course. You don't mind, do you?"

Ever since that stunt she pulled before – that time that ended with her waltzing home in Hori's uniform slacks (she'd returned them perfectly pressed and smelling of detergent promptly after, of course, and he had spent a good half of the day mulling over what it was supposed to mean, that the thought of something of his being washed in the same detergent of hers actually made him _happy_) – he'd always made sure that she was fine with another male role, first.

Sure, that time had ended in a joke, made at _his_ expense no less, but there's no telling when the one time she might tell the truth would be, and Hori does _not_ want to miss it.

"Aw, _of course_ I don't mind, _senpai_, you know that!" Kashima grins happily in reply, awkwardly batting at his shoulder. It's the kind of motion tic that Hori'd expect from any one of his male friends, and he would've let it pass, if only Kashima didn't lose her balance shortly afterwards. Because here's the thing: Kashima _never_ loses her balance. _Ever_. Not when she did sports or worked onstage or went about being herself. So why is she losing it _now_?

Why is she sucking in breaths through her teeth, all of a sudden?

"I don't think I'll ever mind," she says, and it comes out sounding more serious than any of her high-drama plays _and_ more confused than the time she asked him about which skirt to wear, all at once. He doesn't know how she does that, but here she is. "I won't ever mind, not if it's _you_ asking. Hori-_senpai_."

The first thing that comes to mind: normally, when she's up for saying something as ridiculously sappy like that, she tacks on the unnecessary '_-chan_' onto his surname and usual honorific. The fact that he knows her so well that he's even obsessing over her _diminutive honorific usage_ should scare him, but Hori is exceptionally good at not being scared of things that would terrify some lesser man, so he decides not to be.

And the second thing: there's only one other smoother way to phrase her words. _Hori-senpai, I would do anything for you_. But Hori won't be so presumptuous as to assume that's what she means, not when he's not one of the usual 'princesses' Kashima saves all that cheese for, not when the Kashima in front of him right now, with her irregular breathing and awkward movements, is just about as smooth as Mikoshiba (_Mamiko_) in his corner of woe, so Hori tries not to think about this too much anyway.

_Tries_, he only ever just gets the chance to _try_ doing so, mind, because before Hori could snap back with a snarky remark (something along the lines of how Kashima _does_ mind him asking, did she _already_ forget what happened _last Tuesday_?), suddenly Kashima's got an arm around his shoulder and her eyes are fluttering closed as she leans in to press the softest of kisses to Hori's hair.

"…!?"

"…"

Did she just.

She did just do that, didn't she.

Yeah, Kashima _did_ just do that, and when she pulls away she's facing Hori with such a beatific smile that'd definitely _not_ look out of place in some classical painting of saints or cherubic figures, down to the rosy cheeks and overall sparkle. Kashima's smiling at him, her head cocked innocently, as if nothing happened, absolutely _nothing_ at all, despite her aforementioned red face that affirms that yes, she _did _just do something, has probably wanted to do so for a while now, and she has no idea what will come out of it.

That makes two of them, then.

Because it's only _each and every_ _freaking_ _day_ that Hori wraps her necktie – bright red, red like her flushed face after a job well done (huh, so _that's _where the rosy cheeks come from) – around his knuckles, once, twice, thrice, and drags her everywhere _but_ the direction he actually wants her to go, which is to say: mere centimeters away, close enough so he could see the flecks of gold in her green eyes.

But as long as they're going to be all _upfront_ and _honest_ about this – if the awkward shuffling of Kashima's feet is as honest as she's going to go – then Hori might as well lay his cards out there on the table, clear to see for someone as indignantly stubborn as Kashima, who somehow thought he wanted to be princess just because he can do female lines just fine, too.

He doesn't allow himself an ample amount of time in which he could overthink things and change his mind, no. Only braces himself – _this is now or never, Masayuki, get your goddamned act together_ – reaches over to tuck the necktie out of her sweater, almost _gently_, and doesn't even bother with wrapping it around his hand before he just _pulls_, and then –

Hori's never really cared enough about silly stuff like – like _kissing_, not enough to actually think about _how_ it's supposed to go or how it's supposed to make him _feel_, but what he does know is that every lovestruck teen and sappy TV drama/romance manga he's ever seen might be right when they say that first kisses are _spectacular_. Then again, this is_Kashima_ here, Kashima who would _always_ be spectacular, no matter what.

Which is why he feels supremely annihilated when, just as soon as they break away for air, an _extremely_ red-faced Kashima escapes his grip in a flash and runs out the door, down the hallways, as if the Apocalypse were upon her.

_Damn it_.

* * *

"You know, Kashima-kun," Sakura somehow manages to stammer out, caught in Kashima's vice grip, "You're not exactly helping matters along, being a blubbering baby like this."

Kashima doesn't even say anything, only nuzzles her friend closer (in a misguided attempt to hide the flush spreading rapidly through her _entire face_) and makes some kind of incomprehensible noise somewhere in between a whimper and a groan. Some might say she's acting silly and petty and definitely _not_ prince-like at all at this moment – Chiyo just called her a _baby_, herself – but _they're_ not the ones who have to live with this, who have to come to terms with the fact that Hori just kissed _her_when he could've had the chance to kiss _anyone else_ he wanted to.

Granted, she _did_ make a move first, albeit a spontaneous, unplanned one that popped up during a rare moment of earnest_fondness_ (now she knows why Mikoshiba gets all embarrassed all the time, it's terrifyingly _easy_, getting caught up in the flow). But surely Hori had known her enough to know that, unlike all the other times when she'd acted to get some kind of reaction from him (read: all she ever wanted had always been _his attention_), this gesture didn't exactly call for escalation?

Oh crap, what if he thought it _did_, what if he thought this was another one of her childish competitions, and just acted accordingly? _What if he hadn't actually meant it at all?_

"Kashima-kun, Kashima-kun, _listen to me_." It's so deliciously ironic that in times like this, with Kashima's façade of looking tall and imposing and totally in-control, it takes Chiyo, with her petite frame and remarkably large girlish hair ribbons to spell reality out for her. "You should probably talk about this, you know? _Talking_? The thing you do with your words? Aren't you really good at doing that?"

"Not with this. Not with _him_. It's –" Kashima stops. Sighs. Starts over. "Anyway, he probably doesn't return my feelings. There's nothing we should talk about."

Maybe he wouldn't want to see her face again, all that awkwardness finally getting in the way of their former amicable working relationship, as well as their bickering friendship. Maybe she could make it work, somehow – keep to her class and go home straight afterward, even turn in her resignation for the club pronto because she only ever joined for his sake (_and_for her own budding interest in theater, but mostly: _him_) and doesn't know how she's supposed to carry on if he wouldn't even want to look at her, just because of this.

"Huh," Chiyo murmurs, cocking her head. "Looks like you're wrong, though."

"Mm?"

Kashima barely gets to hear Chiyo say "_incoming_" before she's swept away in a rather familiar pull, the last words to reach her ears something that sounds awfully like "_I'm borrowing her_."

* * *

Hori doesn't speak much, the rest of the time they spend walking, and Kashima finds herself thinking that if this is going to be the death of her, Mikoshiba better be the one choosing flowers for her wake. She thinks he might make a good job out of it.

* * *

He finally speaks after depositing her atop a desk in an otherwise bare classroom. If Kashima weren't so fixated on contemplating how their relative isolation and Hori's impromptu martial arts would mean for her tentative survival rate, she would've noticed that the flush growing high on his cheekbones is already more than enough to rival her own.

"I…meant it, okay."

"…_senpai_?"

"Yeah. I meant it. I really did. I'd say that in my defense, you went first, but maybe I'd overstepped boundaries or something so I guess that the least I could do is tell you the truth. I meant it, Kashima. I really did, and if that makes me sound weird or creepy or whatever, then I guess –"

"Wait," Kashima says, eyes wide in realization, in the look of someone who'd been told they'd won the lottery and still can't come to terms with the mere probability of the other person telling the truth. "What do you – does this mean you _like me_?"

"Uh, yeah? Wasn't it a bit obvious?"

"_Was it_ obvious?"

"At least that's what they kept telling me? I mean, _Nozaki _picked up on it, and let's be real here, that guy doesn't know non-fictional love if it punched him in the face. Poor Sakura."

"Yeah, Chiyo-chan's got hard times up ahead. But really, _seriously_ –?"

"What the hell. Kashima, I like you a lot, okay?" Hori snaps, in the tone that he normally uses when mobilizing wayward club members, and Kashima can't help but just freeze up because that commanding tone of his and that flush on his cheeks are_not_ two things that she'd thought possible to coexist, not until today. But then again, maybe the sayings were all right and life is full of surprises. "Now do you need me to make an embarrassment out of myself _further_ and spell it out even more for you, or have you already understood what I am saying and want to file a restraining order posthaste?"

_Restraining order? But I don't – **oh**._

It's only then that Kashima realizes that running off right after being kissed senseless _might_ be construed as something along the lines of a rejection.

"No, no restraining orders. I – actually, well." Never mind that it's her who sprung a kiss on him first, albeit not one on the lips; it's saying the actual words that makes her want to bury her face in her hands Mikoshiba-style and curl up in a hole in the ozone above anywhere but here. But he's been honest with her, saying these things, so she thinks it's only fair for her to be honest to him, as well.

"I – I like you too. I like you a lot…I've always thought that you're a wonderful person, _senpai_."

Kashima knows that had she been saying this to any other person, they would've been putty in her very capable hands by now. But, despite knowing this full well, her heart still pounds madly in her chest because – because this isn't just _anybody_. This is Hori, _her_ Hori-_senpai_, so what happens is that he's the one who smiles the smallest of smiles and knocks the air out of her lungs, instead.

"Likewise," he says, and like that, just like that, she already knows she's doomed.

Still. No regrets.

* * *

He kisses her again later that afternoon, just as he's about to drop her off, their hands having been interlaced the whole time beforehand. There's a soft smile on his face and she can feel it against her lips, like sunshine and lazy afternoons and the satisfaction of a rehearsal without mistakes, like everything that's ever made her happy and everything else that might make her happier still.

Kashima doesn't think that this could possibly be her life right now, but she sure as hell isn't going to complain.

Notes:

Tentative placeholder title off this song, which was the first thing I thought of when I found out the translated title of Gekkan Shoujo's OP song.

This is my first work in this fandom! So, yeah, I'm still getting in the middle of familiarizing myself to these characters, but I hope you liked this, nonetheless!


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